tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post5041543892373015483..comments2024-03-28T18:48:28.471-07:00Comments on the prowling Bee: It might be lonelierSusan Kornfeldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-54241409752361248432023-11-13T16:05:35.555-08:002023-11-13T16:05:35.555-08:00ED built a castle in her imagination, then worried...ED built a castle in her imagination, then worried it would cost too much.<br /><br />An interpretation of ‘It might be lonelier’:<br /><br />Life with Wadsworth might be lonelier <br />Than my current life.<br />I’m so accustomed to my chosen life,<br />Perhaps life with Wadsworth<br /><br />Would interrupt my nightly poetry<br />And crowd my little room,<br />Too small, by far, to contain<br />The holiness of Wadsworth.<br /><br />I’m unaccustomed to hope.<br />It might intrude upon <br />My nightly poetry, curse my room,<br />Which I’ve ordained for suffering.<br />Larry Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02810899482852120751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-49109690385420385702023-02-12T13:24:26.979-08:002023-02-12T13:24:26.979-08:00Thank you - your comment rings of truth and insigh...Thank you - your comment rings of truth and insight.<br />Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-54524049560059183602023-02-12T05:20:54.193-08:002023-02-12T05:20:54.193-08:00I love this poem. I found it when I was the most d...I love this poem. I found it when I was the most depressed I had ever been in my life, which is only important because a couple months of that creates a really profound kind of loneliness that you almost start to crave. for me, this poem meant it might be lonelier to try to be with others and still feel lonely. At least when you actively choose to be alone, to choose loneliness, you can enjoy your own company. what's scarier is that one day you could choose company and it won't choose you backAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-40485885372225301132020-10-10T06:17:11.611-07:002020-10-10T06:17:11.611-07:00I love the echo of line 1 and line 12, and the sug...I love the echo of line 1 and line 12, and the suggestion that her room is her ark and all the salvation that metaphor implies. Pphttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01023162636086533197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-24354150928453874712018-01-23T08:15:40.589-08:002018-01-23T08:15:40.589-08:00Thank you!! The source of the image has been bothe...Thank you!! The source of the image has been bothering me for years and years. From Wilde's "The Nightingale and the Rose" (which doesn't end well): <br /><br />"If you want a red rose," said the tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and make it red with your own heart's blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn, and your blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."<br /><br />"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale. "Yet love is better than life, and what is the heart of the bird compared to the heart of a man?"Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-38648985057696834702018-01-23T05:29:22.362-08:002018-01-23T05:29:22.362-08:00"to press her breast against the thorn to sin..."to press her breast against the thorn to sing" - must be Oscar Wilde. The Nightingale and the Rose.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-43547347017108672542017-01-12T15:11:42.630-08:002017-01-12T15:11:42.630-08:00not an easy way within the blog search function. B...not an easy way within the blog search function. But I could send you a list. Use the contact form to give me your email and I'll do so.Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-69518726289555517472017-01-09T11:44:43.764-08:002017-01-09T11:44:43.764-08:00I accidentally read the last word as Daylight inst...I accidentally read the last word as Daylight instead of Delight. I agree with you that it works either religiously or romantically but I would lean toward the religious meaning. The peace, delight, and joy inherent in the "religious" faith would be too much and crowd out her own spiritual journey that requires the elements of loneliness, darkness, etc. There is also something about the "sweet parade" of religion that is blasphemous to her small, contemplative space that is "ordained to suffering."<br /><br />On a side note, is there an easy way of looking up my comments without having to remember which poems I have commented on? As I go through the poems, I forget those that I left comments on. Thanks and thank you for the blog!!Davidhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10047678873938396282noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-69179613881229948132015-05-14T08:16:36.054-07:002015-05-14T08:16:36.054-07:00Yes, striving and hope involve a certain amount of...Yes, striving and hope involve a certain amount of daring and risk. Oddly, Dickinson refers to Peace as the alternative to Loneliness and suffering. Peace is probably not a spur to writing, so perhaps Dickinson is thinking of that creative impoverishment.Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-20422505610220755862015-05-14T05:41:58.427-07:002015-05-14T05:41:58.427-07:00In the second line, Without the Loneliness, sugges...In the second line, Without the Loneliness, suggests, to me, the writing about being lonely makes it less so.<br /><br />Reminds me of someone who would choose the familiarity of their own pain over the unknown and the possibility (and the risk) of overcoming it, achieving, as it is here, delight. That is, I see this poem reflecting most human's propensity to stay with the status quo of suffering than to dare what lurks (or waits) beyond it.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-3766778069651653082015-03-06T04:50:29.083-08:002015-03-06T04:50:29.083-08:00Thank you for your readings, Susan. Astute and ins...Thank you for your readings, Susan. Astute and insightful, they make a fine companion to Emily's poems.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03078864069248023194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-19711217156174576522014-05-22T06:11:14.885-07:002014-05-22T06:11:14.885-07:00thank you for your blog - I read her regularly, an...thank you for your blog - I read her regularly, and really appreciate your analysis. KentFhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15085780221762105706noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-38185911127914955572014-05-15T16:21:30.716-07:002014-05-15T16:21:30.716-07:00This poem reminds me a little of "I can Wade ... This poem reminds me a little of "I can Wade Grief" (Fr. 312).Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com